Listen to Your Heart – Chapter Two
xx
Not knowing why she felt so tense about a simple meeting with an old acquaintance – if Chandler could even be called that – Monica nervously entered the restaurant that Rachel had said they were meeting Ross, Chandler and his roommate in. Monica suddenly felt a stab of jealousy towards her carefree, easy-going roommate. Rachel hardly seemed stressed or nerve-wracked. She watched in silence, forcing herself not to roll her eyes, as Rachel flirtingly spoke to the maître d' who was leading them into the seating area of the restaurant. He snaked a pathway around the tables and dining patrons, not missing a beat in his conversation with Rachel. He hardly even acknowledged Monica's presence, aside from a brief, curt nod as Rachel introduced her. Monica didn't mind much, but sometimes such situations poked annoyingly at her self-esteem.
When both girls were seated, they noticed two of the five chairs were still unoccupied. Only Ross was sitting in his seat, playing with and making sound effects for a napkin he had carefully folded into the shape of a dinosaur. When he had noticed Rachel and Monica approaching the table, he tried to discreetly tuck his napkin creation under the table and unfold it. The girls smiled at his actions. Classic dorky Ross.
"I was just, just –uhm– wiping up some, ah water, yeah, water that I spilled on the table. Yeah that's it," Ross told Rachel sheepishly, "I am completely, totally cool."
"Where's Chandler and his friend? Aren't they here, yet?" Monica asked impatiently, in spite of her nervousness, ignoring her brother and his dumb napkin. She was beginning to realize just how curious she was if anything her roommate had said about Chandler was true. Rachel was known to be a gossip and exaggerate the truth. To be honest, Monica half-expected Chandler to be the same dorky college kid, with the same stupid haircut he had eight years ago. He really couldn't have changed as much as Rachel made it sound he had.
"Oh, they're outside making a phone call to some woman. Flora or Feebs or something like that. A close friend of theirs," Ross explained to the girls. Hearing this news, Monica felt strangely annoyed that Chandler hadn't been there to witness her entrance and instead had been talking to some woman. A semi-awkward silence reigned over the trio of close friends, as they sipped their water or fiddled with their napkins and cutlery.
Monica looked around the restaurant idly, wondering what was taking Chandler and his friend so long, when she spotted a sandy-haired man approaching their side of the restaurant. In tow was a slightly shorter, darker-haired man. Despite the distance between them she could clearly see the first man had amazingly blue eyes. She smiled slightly. He was cute. Why didn't guys like that ever notice her? They both looked in her direction, and seemed to smile directly at her. Embarrassed at getting caught staring, Monica returned to folding her napkin neatly and straightening the saltshakers and her silverware.
She was surprised when a few seconds later the two men slid into the seats in between Ross and Rachel. Monica was immediately taken aback. That was Chandler? Rachel had been right, she reluctantly admitted to herself. Chandler most definitely had matured since she had last seen him; in fact, he hardly resembled his former self. His flock-of-seagulls haircut was long gone and replaced with a shorter, more clean-cut one; he was not as skinny and gangly as he had been, although he was slightly taller. He was definitely attractive. And his eyes… they had never been that blue, had they? Realizing she was staring once again, and to make matters worse, blushing like highschooler with a crush, Monica scolded herself for even thinking about him like that. 'You hate him, remember?' her brain insisted. Forcing her thoughts elsewhere, she turned to glance at his roommate. He seemed familiar somehow… but she couldn't quite place him. Rachel obviously could, because she was acting like a giggly schoolgirl meeting a celebrity. A celebrity? Possibly. He certainly had an actor-like quality about him and Rachel was famous for knowing all the latest celebrity gossip. She shrugged off her thoughts and focused on what Chandler was saying.
"Hello, Rach," He paused to peck Rachel on the cheek, "And you must be Monica?" He asked politely, addressing her with a smile. Monica felt a surge of satisfaction as he focused on her, his eyebrows raised, clearly wondering if she was the same 'Monica Geller' he knew from the lone time he had met her years previous. Despite that, Monica couldn't help but smile back, his smile was contagious. As much as she wanted to hate him for his stupid comment years ago, with a smile like that… she just couldn't. "I'm sorry," he apologized, "It's just… you look so much different from the last time I saw you. You look great, really amazingly beautiful," he beamed at her and Monica forced away another smile upon hearing the compliment. 'Hate him. Hate him. He called you fat! He only likes skinny you. Hate him,' her brain screamed.
He offered her his hand in a friendly gesture, which she accepted politely, trying to seem calm and collected and not as confused as she felt. Why was she suddenly feeling so self-conscious around Chandler Bing of all people?
"I want you both to meet my roommate and best friend, Joey Tribbianni. Joe, this is Monica, Ross's sister, and Rachel, their friend," Chandler introduced. Handshakes were casually exchanged. Rachel refused to let go of Joey's hand, at first, "Are you really Joey Tribbianni? Oh my God, Oh my God! I love your show! I can't believe I'm meeting you! In person! You're like, the hottest soap actor, ever! You're Dr. Drake Ramoray, from DOOL!"
"You call it DOOL, too?" Joey asked excitedly.
"Uh, yeah!" Rachel replied indignantly, as if it was the obvious answer. Within seconds the two were deeply immersed in a conversation about Joey's soap opera career that none of the others were interested in hearing. Ross looked extremely uncomfortable at the cosiness between Rachel and Joey, but shrugged it off. Nothing would happen. Right?
"So…" Ross, Monica and Chandler chorused simultaneously. They laughed at their weak attempt to start a conversation; glad the ice had been broken.
xx
"Oh my God, you're kidding!" Monica giggled, "I can't believe a woman actually stapled your hand to a desk." She and Chandler had been talking for the last 20 minutes. The others, unable to get a word in edgewise, had started talking amongst themselves, though neither Monica or Chandler seemed to notice their absence from the conversation. They were both busy reveling in their new found chemistry.
"Yeah, me neither," Chandler shook his head, smiling ruefully at the memory. "That's the kind of thing that happens to me, and only me," he explained, pointing at himself, "I'm telling you, I have a 'relationship catastrophe' magnet glued to my ass, that only attracts desperate or mentally unstable women." Chandler grinned more broadly than before when Monica laughed at his joke.
"I don't know if you can blame your magnet, here, though. I think it has more to do with you lying to the woman!" Monica shot back.
"Hey!" Chandler returned, defending himself, "I wanted her to like me! You try having to fire a woman you really like! It's harder than it sounds!"
"I don't really swing that way," Monica teased.
"You know what I mean! What would you do if you had to fire some super hunky guy, then?" Chandler proposed, hypothetically. "You'd just fire him and then proceed to ask him if he'd like to grab a bite to eat?" he suggested, the expression on his face making it clear how ridiculous he thought the idea was.
Monica, however, took the question a little more seriously. "That's not really a problem for me," Monica sighed, "My job sucks. The staff hate me; they don't listen to a word I say. Don't think I'd ever like any of them enough to care about firing one of them. Not that they'd listen to me if I tried to fire them anyway…"
"I'm sorry," Chandler offered, "I didn't mean to bring up a sore spot."
"You didn't, really. My job sucks and I've gotten used to it. I'm always on the hunt for a better one. Trust me, though, it's better than some jobs I've had. I actually used to dance on table tops wearing a blond wig and flame-retardant fake boobs at thi-"
Chandler' eyes widened, as he interrupted, "You used to be a stripper?!"
"What no!" Monica asked, shocked, "Do I look like a stripper to you?!"
"Nooo, of course not! That's why I was so surprised. You look way too – um - reserved and, um, you know, respectful of your body to do that kind of thing," Chandler fumbled desperately for an explanation. "Not that I think you're frigid or standoffish, either!" he added, unable to believe that the words he was saying were actually coming out of his mouth, "You're definitely hot enough. Classy hot, though, not stripper hot. It's like-"
Chandler fumbled for additional words to gloss over what he'd already said, his face flaming a bright red, eventually settling on, "Shut up, Chandler! Shut up, Chandler!"
Monica smirked, unable to help herself. She found herself thinking that he was incredibly cute, his face all pink, mouth curved into a sheepish smile, trying to fix what he'd muddled up. "Are you done?"
"Yes. I'm sorry," he supplied, "I'm an idiot."
"Nah," Monica smiled, admitting, "I think it was sweet."
"Sweet? Sweet! Did you not hear what I just said? I couldn't have said it worse if I'd had four tongues!" he scoffed.
"Well," Monica explained, "You did say I was 'classy hot.' I think that warrants forgiveness, if nothing else."
Chandler blushed furiously, mumbling, "You are, though." Monica heard it and a pleased smirk flitted across her face.
"Anyway…" she said, "As I was saying, before you interrupted me… I used to be a singing, dancing waitress at a 50s era diner, before I landed the job I have now."
"You're a chef, now, though, right?" Chandler confirmed, more than pleased to move past the previous topic.
Monica smiled, delighted that he'd clearly remembered when she had mentioned her profession, earlier.
"You actually kind of inspired me to become one, when you said you liked my mac and cheese. You know, back in '87?" Monica explained, her cheeks colouring slightly at the memory.
"You're kidding!" Chandler scoffed, "I was such an idiot back then, I can't believe you actually cared about my opinion! Didn't you see my hair? You took career advice from someone looking like that?" Chandler asked incredulously.
Monica shrugged, "I thought your hair was unique."
"Unique?" Chandler smirked, "It that your way of saying 'gay'?"
"What! No!" Monica shook her head adamantly, "I liked it. I thought it was charming, you know, in a dorky way."
"Can't hear that enough," he joked. "I am known to be quite the charmer, though, you know, seducing women into stapling my hands to desks and handcuffing me to chairs and all…" Chandler laughed, comfortable enough to poke fun at himself.
"I like your hair much better, now though," Monica explained. She reached a hand across the table to run it through his hair, unable to believe that she'd worked up the nerve to do so. "Much cuter than before," she explained. His hair was incredibly soft and Monica had to fight to pull her hand away. She glanced at his face, then his lips, briefly, wondering if they were equally soft. Blushing at the direction her thoughts had taken, Monica forced herself back to reality.
Chandler burst into a grin, in spite of himself, reaching up to feel his hair, as if the feel of the strands beneath his fingers might confirm what Monica was saying. The spot where she'd touched his head was still burning, aftershocks of the electricity of the moment still crackling through his veins. "You think so?"
"Oh yeah, definitely," Monica nodded, the remnants of her blush still colouring her cheeks.
"Thanks," he murmured. "Anyway," he added, anxious to move on, and clear his head, "I know you're a chef, but you've never told me where. What restaurant?"
"Allesandro's. It's this tiny Italian restaur-"
"Wait!" Chandler interrupted, "Did you say Allesandro's? Homey little restaurant on fifth?"
"Yeah," Monica agreed, hesitantly, "Why?"
"It's right across the street from my office! Me and the guys from work eat there on lunch break all the time! The food is awesome. I love, love, love the Ravioli."
"Really?" Monica beamed. "That's one of my signature dishes! When I first started as a chef there, I was given free reign to change up the menu. That's one of the things I added. The sauce is entirely homemade. I call it 'Monica's Savoury Sauce,'" Monica explained, excitedly.
"That must be why it's so good," Chandler complimented, "You're an awesome chef!"
"Thanks. I can't believe you're one of the 'weenies,' though!" Monica laughed.
"I compliment your ravioli, and you repay me by calling me a weenie?" Chandler mocked teasingly, "I'm beginning to see why you're still single."
"No, no," Monica laughed, "You got me wrong. 'The Weenies' is the nickname the staff at Allesandro's give to the guys who work in the office building across the street. The place is always flooded with them during the lunch rush, and they're always talking about some wenus thing. We're not quite sure what it means, but we think it has something to do with their jobs. Anyway, we call them the 'Weenies' because they're always talking about that wenus thing. Hey! You might know, being a 'Weenie', and all… what is it?"
"Okay. You explained it and all, but it still hurts," Chandler teased.
"Sorry, force of habit," Monica laughed. "Anything I can do to make it up to you?" she asked flirtingly.
A number of impure thoughts whirlwinded through his head, before he settled on, "Promise it won't happen again."
Monica smirked, "Deal."
"The WENUS is an acronym for Weekly Estimated Net Usage Statistics, by the way," Chandler explained, "It's basically a measure of the weekly production level in my company. Sounds a lot more fun than it is. It has nothing to do with anyone's wenuses, sadly," he deadpanned.
"Huh, yeah. I'm sorry I asked. I was hoping for something a little more scandalous. 'Wenus,' the way the staff at Allesandro's imagined it, was a lot more fun," Monica joked, adding curiously, "You don't seem all that thrilled about your job?"
"No, there's not really much to be thrilled about. I input numbers from a big book into a database. I hate it, but it pays well and has great benefits. It's really only a means for me to support my, uh-" he stumbled, "Joey and you know, buy food and stuff."
"What did you want to do, you know, as a kid, then?" Monica asked, genuinely curious.
"Write. I wanted to write. I was an English major in college, before I got stuck in my miserable temp job. I think it has something to do with my Mom, being a writer. I mean, she was never a great role model or anything, but I guess," he looked upwards, almost as if he was looking for answers, hoping they may be etched on the ceiling, "I don't know, maybe I wanted to make her proud? Maybe get her to acknowledge I actually existed? Ugh, sorry I'm being such a loser and blabbing about my lame childhood," Chandler looked at her, making his 'I'm a loser' face.
"Hey," Monica soothed, "I'm no stranger to parent related anxiety. I've lived in Ross' shadow my entire life. Nothing I've ever done has ever reached the bar he's set in my parent's eyes. It's hard when you never feel good enough."
Looking quickly in Ross's direction, as if he might stop her, screaming it was blasphemy, Monica reached her hand across the table, hesitantly, gently stroking Chandler's hand where it was resting next to his plate, "It's okay if you want to talk about it."
Ages ago, during a girls night in, both Monica and Rachel had both gotten really drunk, and Rachel had spilled all her 'first date secrets' as she called them. One such maneuver she had taught Monica was the 'sympathetic hand caress'. When Chandler began to speak again, easily talking about his parents and the injustices he went through as a child, Monica decided she'd have to thank Rachel later. 'Trust Rachel to know the fastest way to seduce a man,' Monica thought, smirking inwardly. Figuring she better start paying attention, if she wanted to get anywhere with Chandler, Monica snapped back to attention, listening carefully to every word, while staring helplessly into his eyes "-Joey and Phoebe are basically my family, now. They're the ones I count on and spend holidays with. Even now, my parents are flitting off around the world, absorbed in their own lives. Sometimes they even forget to call on my birthday."
"I'm sorry," Monica sympathized, "That must be hard."
"Yeah," he admitted, grabbing her hand, gently from where it had been resting on top of his own, playing with her fingers, "but you get used to it. It's something I've dealt with my whole life. I've got great friends to rely on now. I just hope that as a father, you know, uh, when become one, that I won't repeat those mistakes. I'd hate for my child to ever to feel like I did growing up."
"That's so sweet, Chandler," Monica smiled tenderly up at him, "that you're even thinking about something like that." She squeezed his hand. He'd make a great father, she decided. To their children. 'No,' Monica chastised herself, 'you haven't even been on a real date with the guy, and you're already planning his future kids for him?'
She added a moment later, "I'm sure you'd be a great father. I bet you just need to find the right woman," Chandler smiled uncomfortably at the compliment, in his discomfort glossing over the fact that Monica had implied with subtle body language that she might be that woman.
"Yeah, I agree. Having a 'Mommy' is an important part of being a 'Daddy,'" Chandler agreed somewhat wistfully. His voice cleared a moment later. "So how come you haven't found a 'Daddy' to your 'Mommy,' yet?" he added with a teasing lilt to his voice, though the question was decidedly serious.
"My love life is all but non-existent," Monica sighed, looking discouraged, "I haven't had a date in months, let alone a good one," she explained, and with a sudden burst of bravery added, "This is the closest thing to a good date, I've had in ages." When Chandler failed to comment on the implication, or suggest they go on a proper date, as Monica had hoped he would, she shrunk back in her seat a little, wondering if the chemistry between them was all in her head.
"How is that possible?" Chandler posed, incredulous. "You're gorgeous! And smart! And funny and sweet. How is there not a gaggle of men tripping over themselves to go out with you?" he wondered, looking down at her hand, which was still captured within his own, before looking up, and smiling directly into her eyes.
"A gaggle?" Monica laughed at his unusual choice of word.
"Yeah, a gaggle," Chandler agreed, smiling into her eyes. "Do you have a problem with my vocabulary?" he teased, leaning closer to her and staring hard into her eyes, as if challenging her.
"Yes. Yes, I do," she teased back, "What are you going to do about it?"
Chandler pretended to ponder the question, before smiling broadly, "Buy you a dictionary! Maybe for your birthday? When is that, by the way?"
xx
Monica glanced at her watch, surprised to find that three hours had passed since Chandler and Joey had arrived. It hadn't seemed that long. In fact, the time had flown by. She was even more amazed at how much she had enjoyed herself. She and Chandler had cut all of the others out of their conversation, she was surprised how much they had to talk about, from books they liked to their jobs to shared experiences with their parents. She felt sorry for Ross, he seemed almost like a fifth wheel tagging along, or rather she was sure she would feel sorry for Ross later, when she wasn't busy talking and laughing with Chandler. Monica felt none of her previous dislike of him. In fact it was quite the opposite, she found herself staring at him dreamily throughout the night, wondering what their kids might look like. This wasn't an altogether new experience for Monica, but definitely something that she'd never expected to find herself doing with Chandler. Instead of screaming, "Hate him. Hate him," her brain had taken on the new slogan, "Date him. Date him." Chandler was sweet and charming and funny and cute and… was there a single positive adjective that didn't describe him? Maybe she had been wrong to judge him and his personality after only one meeting. So completely, totally wrong.
The restaurant was closing soon, Monica realized, feeling a distinct sense of letdown at the thought. She desperately wanted to continue the conversation she was having with Chandler. She had the sinking feeling that once the night was over, the connection that had been slowly but surely building between them would be broken. It had been so long since she hadn't felt trapped or stifled while talking to a man. She was sick of the dead-end conversations with dull, self-centred men, who had not one ounce of creativity or a sense humour. Chandler was different, somehow. He was interesting and witty, he listened when she spoke and seemed genuinely concerned about what she had to say. Monica wasn't quite sure she was willing to give that all up, but didn't really enjoy the thought of asking Chandler if he'd like to come back to her apartment in front of her brother.
Before anyone else had a chance to mention the time, Chandler announced, "Joey and I really need to get home, we don't want to keep Phoebe waiting. I know she'll be waiting for us. It's been a pleasure seeing all of you, again, though," Chandler told the group. He seemed to smile directly into Monica's eyes as he spoke, and she couldn't help but feel secretly satisfied that he seemed to have enjoyed the time they'd spent talking as much as she had.
Chandler shot a pointed look at Joey, who sighed and nodded resignedly, his eyes still focused on Rachel. Rachel appeared deep in thought.
"We don't want to keep a pregnant lady waiting, boy is she moody," Joey informed exasperatedly. "They're not even her babies, so I don't see why she gets so upset," Joey explained, not noticing the strange looks he was getting from the Gellers and Rachel.
"Phoebe's a surrogate for her half-brother and his wife," Chandler explained, feeling a need to justify Joey's odd comments. Ross, Rachel and Monica nodded in understanding, their odd expressions still present.
"We might as well head off, too, there's no point in us staying without you and Joey here," Ross said looking at Monica and Rachel for confirmation, "We'll see you guys again sometime? Maybe you can bring Phoebe?" Ross asked.
"We'd like that," Chandler said with a smile, making Monica's heart flutter. She grinned goofily in response, feeling like the stupid, giggly star struck schoolgirl that Rachel had been earlier, when meeting Joey. She scolded herself inwardly for getting so excited over a smile.
"Hey! Um, Joey, will you share a cab with me I really want to talk to you about something," Rachel offered, trying to sound casual and unconcerned, about what she wanted to talk to Joey about. Ross looked alarmed by this idea.
"It's fine with me, as long as Chandler's okay?" Joey looked pleadingly at him roommate.
"Nah, go ahead, I'm fine, I'll go with Monica," Chandler smiled, knowing his roommate wanted to spend more time with Rachel, it was clear he had some sort of feelings for her. Chandler hadn't seen him quite so involved since he'd fallen in love with Kate, one of his costars from an off-Broadway play he'd been starring in a couple years back.
"Uh, Chandler and Joey live together, right? It'd be most practical if they go together, don't you think?" Ross suggested to Rachel.
"Shut up, Ross," Rachel hissed, "You act like you own me! I want to go with Joey!" Ross looked at her dejectedly, but she either failed to notice or didn't care.
"No problem buddy," Joey said addressing what he thought Ross's concerns were, "I'll make sure she gets home safe, I promise," Joey offered.
"Thanks, man," Ross replied, meekly, not knowing what else to say to prevent Joey and Rachel from sharing a cab.
xx
"Joey… um… I wanted to talk to you, you know, about Chandler and Monica," Rachel asked timidly, as they got into a cab, a couple minutes after the others' cabs had left.
"Yeah, sure. Whatever. What about them?" Joey answered distractedly, not really wanting to talk about Chandler and Monica at all.
"Don't you think they got along great?" Rachel hinted.
"I guess so, they were talking and stuff. They seem like good friends already," Joey said, his usual obliviousness present.
"No, no. Not like that. I mean, like a couple. Don't you think they would make a perfect couple?"
"A couple?" Joey questioned.
"Yeah you know, like people who go out on dates?" Rachel explained, rolling her eyes good-naturedly.
"Um… no I don't think so. Not a good couple at all really. Not Chandler," Joey answered, looking out the window and refusing to meet Rachel's eyes.
Stubbornly Rachel protested, "Why not? He's not seeing anyone, right? They're both single, and obviously attracted to one another. What's the problem?"
"No problem, he just wouldn't. He couldn't. He's got issues, stuff from the past. Things, y'know?" Joey offered vaguely, still staring out the window and clearly trying to dodge the subject.
"What? No!" Rachel insisted. "That's the whole reason I forced Monica out here! It was like a blind date, that she didn't know she had. She and Chandler are perfect for one another! Can't you see it? They'd be the most amazing couple. They were supposed to meet and realize that they are meant to be – it'd be so romantic." Rachel protested, her eyes glazing over dreamily.
"Look, Rach, I'm sure Monica and Chandler appreciate the effort. And I'm sure you love playing matchmaker, but it's just not gonna happen. Chandler's got Michelle to worry about. Chandler dating would be hard for Mishi to deal with." Joey's eyes widened as he realized what he had inadvertently revealed, "Damn it! Stupid! Stupid!" he berated himself under his breath.
"Michelle?" Rachel questioned with a laugh, "There's no Michelle."
"Yup, yup, you're totally right, there's no Michelle. Did I say Michelle? 'Cause there ain't any Michelles that I know," Joey overcompensated, laughing in a clearly fake tone.
Rachel's eyes narrowed and she quickly turned serious, piecing her thoughts together. "If there's no Michelle, why'd you say there was a Michelle? There's a Michelle. Who's Michelle?" Rachel asked in one breath, her words slurring together and sounding like one long word.
"Michelle? I never said Michelle," Joey lied. Laughing falsely once again, he pretended to wrack his brain for answers, "Nope, don't know any Michelles."
"Yes you do. Who's Michelle?" Rachel demanded. Joey remained silent. Rachel proceeded to poke him in his side until he whined, ready to spill.
"Okay, okay! there's a Michelle. But I can't tell you anything about her. Really," Joey answered, already feeling guilty for betraying Chandler's trust. He had promised he wouldn't say anything at dinner, even though he wasn't really sure why Chandler had asked him to, in the first place.
Undaunted, Rachel continued her inquiry, "Is she his girlfriend? His ex-wife? Fiancée? Sister? Friend? Come oonnn! Who's Michelle?"
"Sorry Rach, can't say… I proooomised!" Joey whined.
"But…"
"No. No. No," Joey said loudly, covering his ear with his hands and proceeding to hum at the top of his voice, "I can't hear you, lalala!"
"Sorry," Rachel quickly apologized to the cab driver, who was currently giving the pair quizzical looks. Returning her attention once again to Joey, "Stop being so immature and tell me who Michelle is!" Rachel pleaded.
She pulled his hands away from his ears and held his head in her hands, forcing him to look into her eyes. They stared into one another's eyes for several long seconds. Before either fully registered what was happening, they were leaning toward one another, their lips meeting in a soft kiss, that was near instantaneously deepened.
Dazed and breathless, Rachel was the first to pull back. Smiling, she asked sweetly, "Ready to tell me yet?"
"Okay," Joey whispered, cupping her face softly and stroking her cheeks with his thumbs, "I'll tell you. But only if you promise never to tell Chandler or Monica you know and you, uh, you know, kiss me again?" Joey asked slyly, all thoughts of his promise to Chandler flying from his mind. He felt as if he had forgotten everything with that kiss. He wasn't sure he wanted to remember. All that he needed to know was wrapped up in Rachel's embrace.
Rachel nodded enthusiastically, her mission to find out the importance of this Michelle person was pushed to the back of her mind. She had a new mission in mind and it involved getting that second kiss…
Joey sighed, hardly aware of what he was saying, his eyes and his mind were both still transfixed on Rachel, "Michelle is…"
xx
Meanwhile, in Chandler and Monica's cab, silence had reigned for the majority of the ride. Neither knew what to say to the other. It was obvious that they were both attracted to one another, but were afraid to voice their feelings. The moment that they had stepped into the cab, Chandler had gently grasped Monica's hand in his. Monica found the contact comforting; initially hoping that the small, sweet gesture was an indication that he would take the first step and voice his feelings. She knew what she wanted to say, but was terrified of the thought that he might feel differently. With as strongly as she was feeling, she wasn't sure she could handle being rejected.
After several minutes of silence, Monica felt she had to initiate the conversation. They were only a few minutes away from his apartment. As nervous as she was, she wasn't going to pass this opportunity up. Who knew when or if they'd meet again?
"So... I had fun tonight," Monica said, attempting to trigger a conversation. She looked up into his face, trying to meet his eyes in the darkness of the cab.
"Yeah, me too, you're great to talk to. I feel like I can open up to you, y'know? I mean, I've already told you things I haven't even told Joey!" Chandler explained, grinning sheepishly. Monica fought to keep her blush from reappearing.
"Thanks, I know what you mean, though," Monica returned, "Because –um– I feel the same way… when I'm with you." It was Chandler's turn to blush. "I'd really like to see you again. Maybe we could go for coffee sometime?" Monica suggested as casually as she could muster, trying not to sound too concerned about his answer. Despite her breezy tone of voice, inside, her heart was beating rapidly. The seconds it took him to answer seemed to tick by like minutes.
Chandler stuttered incoherently for a few seconds, fumbling for an excuse, "Um, I don't know. I mean, you – I – you're Ross's little sister."
"That's not the real problem here, is it?" Monica accused, softly. "There's something else, isn't there?" she asked, feeling hurt, more at the thought that he was hiding the truth from her, than anything else. She furrowed her brow wondering what reason he could have for concealing his true feelings, but nothing came to mind. The evening had been the epitome of perfection. If Monica had been inclined to believe in such a thing, she might have deemed it love at first – well, second - sight.
Chandler remained silent. "Just seconds ago you said you felt you could trust me," Monica reminded him, "You can." She pushed closer to him, so she was cuddling into his side, "Please, Chandler." Chandler instinctively wrapped his arm around her, and sighed. Monica sighed as well, wondering if she had misread the signs of his attraction to her, and merely projected her own feelings onto him.
"It's nothing to do with you, really, Monica. You are an incredible woman; intelligent, funny, gorgeous," Chandler explained, sensing where her thoughts were at, "It's all my problems and past hang-ups. I really wouldn't want you to have to deal with me and my problems, I'm not worth it, really," he attempted to shrug nonchalantly; his body language clearly telling her that he was as miserable at the idea of it as she was. Monica was surprised that after only really knowing him less than 24 hours she could read him so well.
"I think you are," Monica stated softly, "Doesn't that mean anything?"
"It does, to me, but really, Monica, I'm more trouble than I'm worth. I don't want you to have to put up with all my, my Chandlerisms. You deserve better than me," Chandler admitted, slumping in his seat dejectedly. His hands, were no longer intertwined with Monica's, and instead were balled tightly. As much as he felt the undeniable chemistry between them, Chandler knew he was doing the right thing. For him, and for Michelle. He wasn't ready.
Monica scoffed. "Can't you let me decide what I deserve?" Monica asked, frustrated.
"Not this time... I'll –uh– see you around. We can still be friends," Chandler offered weakly, as the cab pulled into the drive of his and Joey's apartment building, "I'm so sorry, Monica." He smiled at her quickly, handing the cab driver his fare and hopping out of the cab hurriedly, before Monica could protest. He walked swiftly into the building, careful not to turn around, knowing if he saw her face, he would change his mind.
Chandler broodingly climbed the stairs leading up to his apartment, two at a time, feeling in a particularly bad mood. As much as he tried to convince himself that he wasn't ready for someone new, he wondered if maybe Monica could have been the one to change that. As much as he'd tried to deny it to himself, he felt something for her. Their chemistry couldn't have been any more tangible if there had been actual sparks flying between them.
Chandler sighed to himself. It had been nearly three years. As much as he used Michelle as an excuse to not get involved, he knew in his heart that when it came down to it, Michelle was only an excuse; a reason he gave to his friends, so he wouldn't have to put his heart on the line and risk it getting broken, again. Joey was constantly offering to set him up, but Chandler always refused, citing Michelle as the reason he wasn't ready to date. He felt immensely guilty for using her like that, but it was better than admitting he was just too terrified of having his heart broken to try again.
All he wanted at that precise moment was to slip into his warm bed, and sleep clean through the rest of the week, and avoid having to make a decision. Well that wasn't all he wanted. He wanted Monica. But who knew how Monica would react, when he told her about Michelle? No, he decided, he'd done the right thing. Being alone in his apartment with his thoughts would suffice for now. Was it so horrible to want to just relax in his home, and not have worry about his life?
He keyed into the apartment, carefully, trying his best to keep quiet. He didn't want to disturb Phoebe, whom he suspected may have fallen asleep while waiting for him or Joey to return. He glanced at his watch. 11:12. So what if he was a few minutes late, Phoebe was mostly likely asleep, anyway.
As soon as the door was closed, and Chandler had turned around to set his keys on the kitchen counter, something slammed into his legs from behind, nearly sending him to the floor.
"Daddy! Auntie Pheebs felled asleep, again!" the little girl informed her father, exasperatedly, giggling as she pointed towards the couch, where Phoebe was sprawled, protectively cradling her pregnant stomach, "Now that she's plegant, she falls asleep all the time!"
Chandler hugged the three-year-old and kissed her hair as he picked her up, looking at her sternly, "It's way past your bedtime, Michelle."
xx
Thank you all for the reviews! :) I love reading them, even if it's just a 'please continue.' They encourage me to get working on this fic, and to post the chapters :)
To clarify after receiving some concerns, this is definitely going to be an AU. Various events from all of the seasons are going to be mentioned periodically, without following the show's time line. Also, yes, prior to this chapter, Monica and Chandler hadn't seen one another since Thanksgiving 1987, in this version of events.